


Burdens & Remedies

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, married in the framework au, melinda may can't catch a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: oneshot. Framework au. Framework: The Coulsons. Inspired by 4x16





	

**Author's Note:**

> What we should’ve gotten and what philinda deserves (even though May is still suffering….but I based this on what we learned from 4x16).

Home at last. The tension that had built up in her shoulder muscles throughout the day deflates as she shuffles down the hall. She immediately frowns at the sight in front of her. Their bedroom door is cracked open. She’s told Phil multiple times to keep the door completely shut and locked while he’s home alone. He rarely, if ever listens. This has been the source of many fights between the two of them. He doesn’t understand what the big deal is, always dismissing her worries.   
  
_Melinda, I’ll be fine._  
  
Melinda, our house is secure.  
  
It’s not his fault. He’s the history teacher. He feels secure in this world, protected. Hydra agents are always a phone call away for him while at the school. That’s not the part that worries her. It’s the inhumans, angry Hydra agents, and pissed off people in general. The inhumans who know her face, which is most likely all of them. She’s the Hydra agent who caused all of this. If only she had eliminated the threat, taken out the inhuman girl then none of this would’ve happened. She had failed and the Cambridge Incident was the result. The disgruntled members of society all blame her for her failures, some overtly like The Doctor who has no problem voicing his opinions. The others are more covert in their actions. Three months ago her office in the Hydra building was vandalized. Her desk was destroyed, papers were thrown all over the floor, and all of her electronics were shattered. No suspects were ever caught, that meant there are fellow Hydra agents working alongside her who secretly loathe her.  

The world knows Melinda May. Anyone could easily track down where she lives and who her husband is. If Phil would ever get hurt because of her she would never forgive herself.   
  
She just wishes he would take all of this more seriously, but she doesn’t want to worry him. He has no idea how crooked and twisted their world really is. He lives in blissful ignorance, which is fine. She’ll live and deal with it. It’s her responsibility anyway.   
  
Sometimes a strange feeling creeps up on her. Almost like a little voice in her head trying to convince her that Phil would understand if she finally came clean about the reality that they face. The picture easily comes to mind. They’re in an office and she tells Phil all of it. She shares her fears and he decides to quit being a teacher in favor of joining Hydra. They would be able to work as partners, and then he would finally understand _everything_.  
  
But then, reality hits her again as she tiptoes into their room. The bedside lamp is on, illuminating the space in a dim yellow shade of light. She spots Phil wrapped in a thin sheet, eyes closed sleeping innocently. He would never survive in her world. Phil with a _gun_. Phil _arresting_ and _interrogating_ people. It would _never_ work.   
  
She sits on the edge of their bed, trying not to disturb his sleep, and begins unzipping her knee-high boots. This is always the most satisfying part of her day, being able to kick off the boots after a long day of meetings and chasing people around. Then, crawling in bed and wrapping herself in Phil’s arms.   
  
She successfully pulls off the left boot and lays it softly on the floorboards. Just as she begins pulling the zipper down on the right boot, she feels motion on the mattress.   
  
She turns her head only to see Phil pulling the sheet from his body.   
  
_Shit_. She hadn’t realized that she’d been making that much noise. “Sorry,” she whispers.   
  
“Hi,” he replies, voice clear of any signs of sleepiness. So, maybe he was only resting.   
  
“Hi. What are you doing?” She watches with brows furrowing as he begins sliding out of bed.  
  
“I have a surprise for you."   
  
"What? It’s 11 p.m. Go back to sleep,” she tells him.   
  
“Are you hungry?”  
  
“No. Just….,” She trails off, still completely confused as he slips on some shoes from the closet.   
  
“Put on something comfortable. I have something to show you…outside.”  
  
“Phil. It’s okay. Show me tomorrow.” She finally pulls off the other boot.  
  
“Phil,” she sighs incredulously as he walks out of the bedroom as if he hadn’t heard her. _What the hell is he doing?_

* * *

She slides the screen door open and steps out onto the deck, grinning. The fire pit that they have set up on the side of the yard is filled with wood and burning brightly. Phil is sitting on one of the many cushioned plastic chairs that they have encircling the fire pit. He’s using the metal poker to push the logs around the pit.   
  
She quickly crosses the surface of the deck, down the four steps, and lands in the grass. The soft, mushy ground feels comforting against her bare feet, a welcome contrast to the high-heeled boots.   
  
It’s a pleasant summer night. The ideal temperature of 63°, no layers needed. A simple t-shirt and shorts was all she had to wear in order to feel comfortable.   
  
As she approaches Phil, she spots a steaming mug of brown liquid in his hand.   
  
He pats his leg, signaling her to sit on his lap.   
  
Their combined body heat instantly spreads warmth through her limbs. Phil’s strong forearms wrap around her waist, hugging her back closer to his chest.   
  
“Your tea,” he offers while pressing the ceramic mug against her left hand.   
  
Tea, fire, and the safety of Phil’s embrace? _Oh_ , he’s the perfect husband.   
  
“How was basketball?” She asks him. Phil practices with a couple of teachers after school on Mondays and Wednesdays.  
  
She sips from her mug as he speaks.   
  
“It was good. A nice workout. My calves hurt. I’m such an old man,” he sighs.   
  
“No….because that would make me an old woman,” she quips.   
  
They sit in silence for a couple of minutes just enjoying each other’s presence. Lately, instances like these have been rare. She’s been coming home late every day. By the time she walks in the door, Phil is fast asleep. He makes sure to leave a plate out of whatever he cooked up for dinner. Some nights she sits at the kitchen table, alone, absentmindedly pushing pieces of food around the plate. Her appetite comes and goes. It all depends on the horror that she faces throughout the day. It seems like there’s a new threat once a week. Some new type of terrifying inhuman is always popping up. How was she supposed to enjoy her food when her mind flashes with images of electrocuted bodies or mangled limbs?   
  
“How was it today?” He whispers. She detects the gentleness of his tone.   
  
He’s aware that the job is beginning to eat away at her. She either can’t talk to him about what she’s seen or doesn’t want to. Yet, she can’t imagine doing any else. Her job is one of the most important and is constantly in demand. She’s dedicated her whole life to Hydra. There’s no quitting now. What else would she even do?  
  
She shakes her head with an equal mix of refusal to answer and sadness. “I…..,” she trails off, not knowing how to put her feelings into words.   
  
Her pulse jumps at the sensation of his lips pressing lightly against her neck.   
  
“I’m so tired,” she sighs and lays her head on his chest.  
  
He combs the fingers from his left hand through her long, tangled locks.   
  
She loves when he does that. The gentle tug on her scalp from the movement of her hair feels like heaven. Her eyes flutter shut in response.   
  
They stay like that, together in comfortable silence for at least 20 minutes. The only sounds heard are the crickets and the crackling of the fire.   
  
The next thing she’s aware of is the familiar cushioning of their mattress underneath her body.   
  
She must’ve fallen asleep and Phil carried her inside.   
  
“I love you,” she whispers, fighting and losing against the pull of unconsciousness.   
  
_I love you.  
  
I love you._

//end//

**Author's Note:**

> It's not a perfect life, but at least they're together.


End file.
